Noli Me Tangere
by oneforthehaters
Summary: He was just doing his job. Something simple and routine.
1. Chapter 1

**so i wrote this today actually. idk where the idea came from i guess i'm just in that kinda mood. but anyways. the title is latin for "touch me not" and this is a two part story. the next part will be up soon, as soon as i finish writing it :)**

**DISCLAIMER: i don't own any of the characters. **

**tell me what you think :)**

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**Noli Me Tangere Part 1**

There's a tiny drip in the corner that's wearing on his nerves. It's slow, loud, and annoying. How long it's been going, he doesn't know. If he could get up and stop the drip then he would. But handcuffs tend to keep a person in place whether they like it or not.

He groans as the drip seems to grow louder. His head is already pounding with a headache and he can feel a lump just on the underside of his left ear. Probably from where he got struck down. Something splits when he turns to find the source of the dripping. Dried blood he figures; he did get hit pretty hard.

He jerks his wrists, the metal of his own handcuffs clinking against the pipes he's hooked to. That's the….tenth time he's tried to break the pipes but they're staying solid and not moving. He doesn't even think there's a dent.

"Ugh!" he huffs and tries one more time out of frustration. He can't believe he got himself into this situation. It was just a simple B&E, nothing to it. Not for him, though. He's always getting into things like this. Something that's routine and easy turns into something dangerous and hard for him. Always has, probably always will.

A door creaks somewhere to his right. He jerks his head around to try and get a good look but he sees nothing but the sliver of moonlight shining through a broken window a few feet away. He strains to listen and hears heavy footsteps, heavy breathing, and something heavy dragging across the filthy floor. His heartbeat quickens at the idea of what could be dragging across the floor.

"Here's ya some company," a voice rasps and whatever was being dragged is thrown onto the floor next to him. He flinches when the scent of decaying flesh attacks his nose.

"Who are you and what do you want?" He tries for forceful, angry, but it comes out weak and pathetic.

"We'll not go there. After all, I am the one calling the shots here. So ya better shut up." A cough follows then the heavy footsteps are leaving. He lets out a breath he wasn't aware of holding.

That's when the tears start.

***

"Has anybody seen Greg?"

Nick glances up to see Riley standing at the door to the break room. He shakes his head before throwing away his Styrofoam cup and heading for the door. She steps out of the way to let him pass, then follows him down the hallway.

"I was just curious because he had a B&E yesterday afternoon then he was off but he hasn't called in sick or anything. I'm worried." She rambles on while Nick flips through a folder handed to him by a lab tech.

"Riley, I'm sure he's fine. He's probably still sleeping. Give him another hour. Then you can start worrying." Nick chuckles, pats her shoulder, and leaves her standing dumbfounded in the hallway.

She turns on her heel, a nagging feeling tugging at the back of her mind. Something's not right and she knows it.

***

This time when he wakes from unconsciousness his clothes are covered in blood, and sweat and tears are mingling on his cheeks and neck. He groans, head falling back against the pipe. His head is pounding and the dripping is louder, more annoying.

"Finally awake I see."

Greg forces his eyes open and they blearily focus on the male figure leaning against the wall across the room. The knife in his hand is glistening with fresh blood, the tip dripping with the stuff. Greg can detect a faint coppery scent and it makes his stomach churn. He forces the bile down, afraid it'll hurt too much to vomit now.

Instead he focuses on the shaft of moonlight. It's bright and glowing on a puddle on the floor. He can see the reflection of the room and wishes he had listened when he was told to wait for backup when he found the trail of blood.

Something so simple had gotten him handcuffed and bleeding. A simple breaking and entering at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. One injured store owner, trash littering the place, and an unseen trail of blood; unseen by normal eyes. But his eyes are trained to find the evidence. And he found the dark red drops almost instantaneously when he walked out the back door of the storage room. They were leading away from the place. Along with blood drops were drag marks, like someone had been dragged away by the armpits. He figured if he followed the drops they would lead him to more evidence; possibly even a body. But he wasn't expecting to be taken from behind.

He remembers a heavy object coming down on his head and he remembers someone taking his handcuffs from him. He remembers being dragged across the desert sand, his eyes unfocused and his blood pounding out the beat to the tango in his skull. He remembers being dropped to a floor, where he was cuffed to a pipe of some sorts and left for whatever the sick person had in mind.

That was yesterday. It's been over twenty-four hours since he's been gone and he's not even sure anymore if anyone's noticed that he's not at work because he's been kidnapped, not sleeping in.

"They won't find you. You're in an abandoned shack in the middle of the desert. If they even decide to come looking for you, it'll take them days. You'll be dead by then. You'll be left out for the vultures and the coyotes."

Greg groans when a particularly painful twinge in his side makes him want to puke. He can feel the blood soaking through his shirt, seeping down his side. He wants to look but at the same time he's grateful for the lack of light where he's at. "Why me? What did I do?"

"You interrupted!" Suddenly the man is right in Greg's face, the knife held high at his side. "I was coming back to take care of the owner and get the rest of the money, but you CSI's gotta take over everything! It was all planned. Take the small stores first, then move on to the bigger ones. This was our last small store. We were gonna move closer to the city next. But now I have a problem to take care of."

"Who's we?" Greg wonders. He wants to get the guy's attention off the knife and onto him.

Grey eyes crinkle around the corners with humorless laughter. The knife clatters to the ground and Greg gasps when a hand wraps around his throat. He struggles, kicking out but missing the target. "You don't need to know that."

"Mavis, let the poor boy go."

This voice isn't raspy and low like the guy's. It's soft and motherly like but with a tinge of something dark behind it. She whacks the guy with a stick and he yelps, letting go of Greg at the same time.

Greg breathes in deeply. "They'll find me. Then they'll get you sick bi-"

His words are cut off with a sharp slap to the face. "Now, now hun. No need for that language." The woman is smiling and patting his cheek. He closes his eyes against the sting in his cheek and she backs off. "Mavis, I thought you were gonna take care of him?"

"Mary, shut up. I've got this. You just go back to the truck," he snaps. Mary scoffs but shuffles out anyway.

Greg wants to laugh at the Beverly Hills vibe to this, except for the part where he's cuffed and injured and in the middle of the desert. His side twinges painfully and he cries out. Mavis crouches in front of him, grinning devilishly. Greg sees the knife is back in the guy's hand and his widen in panic.

"Just let me go. I won't tell anyone. I promise!" He pleads and begs but it's not use. Mavis just laughs and draws the edge of the knife across Greg's neck, right at the pulse point. A thin line of blood seeps out of the cut. Greg hisses at the sting and jerks at his bindings another time. His pulse races, though, when the metal of the blade touches down on the hollow of his throat, below the Adam's apple.

"Please, let me go."

Mavis laughs as Greg screams again.

***

Riley's pacing back and forth, cell to her ear. It's ringing and has been for the past minute. She can't get anyone to believe her when she tells them something is wrong.

"Riley, calm down." Nick takes the phone from her trembling hands and ends the call. She takes to biting her nails and continues to pace.

"I'm telling you something's up with Greg. He won't answer his cell or landline and no one has heard from him since he left here to go to the crime scene yesterday afternoon. What if something bad has happened?"

Nick grabs her by the shoulders to stop her from moving around so much. "Look, if it makes you feel better we'll take the Denali and go out there. Huh?"

Riley sighs and lets Nick lead her out of the room. He chuckles at her anxiousness but he can't help but worry also. He's had this nagging feeling that something is up with Greg. Usually someone would've heard from him by now.

He can only hope everything's fine.

***

Another scream and another cut.

By now Greg's shirt is completely gone, torn to shreds from the knife. He's barely hanging on and the pain is driving him insane.

"Too much screaming. Need to do something about that." Mavis takes the knife and slices through the belt at Greg's waist. Greg flinches, and the belt is suddenly shoved into his mouth and tied around his head.

Greg closes his eyes, waits for the next cut to happen. When it doesn't happen he silently sighs in relief. But then Mary's voice cuts through the second of silence.

"Mavis, hurry up will ya?! It's gonna be daylight soon and we don't want nobody seeing us here with that boy."

"Mary, shut up! I'll be there in a minute." Mavis flashes angry eyes at Mary, then turns back to Greg. He smirks, raises the knife, and brings it down.

Greg pulls taut against the handcuffs, screams as hard as he can against the belt in his mouth. Tears pool at the corners of his eyes at the pain of the knife embedded into his right shoulder. Every muscle in his body tenses and he can feel every nerve ending catch on fire.

Mavis pats Greg on the cheek, then follows Mary out the door, leaving Greg for dead. He doesn't even take a glance back. The door slams shut and, faintly, Greg can hear a truck engine start.

He feels the blood seeping down his arm, hears it dripping onto the floor. What did he do to deserve this? The explosion, the beating, now being kidnapped and left for dead. He was just doing his job. Something simple turned these past few hours of his life into a living hell and he can't take it back. He knew he should've listened when he was told to wait for backup. They told him that the guy could still be out there; they told him loud and clear. He just didn't listen.

Now he's sagged against a pipe, sitting on a dirty floor with blood seeping from cuts and other wounds. The belt in his mouth keeps him from screaming, but he doesn't think he can anymore; his voice is too hoarse, his throat too sore.

With one final gust of air he lets out a scream that he hopes someone will hear.


	2. Chapter 2

**thanks for the comments you guys. here's the last part. sorry for any grammatical errors i thought i caught them all in the first part and i think i got them all in this one. if not then im sorry lol. hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: i own nothing.**

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**Part 2**

The Denali skids to a stop in front of the store in the middle of nowhere. Riley is the first to jump out, cell phone already in hand. She knows there will hardly be any service but it's worth a try. Nick follows behind her with his hand on his gun, just in case.

"Riley, this isn't a finished scene. We could get put on leave for contaminating the scene." Nick grabs her arm but she snatches it away.

"I know, but don't you want to find Greg?"

"You are one stubborn woman," he mutters to himself as she hurries around the side of the store.

"Look! Shoe prints. They look to be about the size of Greg's." She starts following the footprints until they stop. Frowning, she turns to Nick who shrugs and goes the other way. With a huff she goes her own way, still hoping to find something that will lead her to Greg.

Anything.

***

The dripping is back. Only this time it's right behind him. It's slowly driving him insane.

The pain turned to a dull thud an hour ago. The bleeding in his shoulder slowed and it is now a slow trickle. He quit trying to ignore it all in the hopes that it would stop. Whether because he doesn't make it out of that abandoned shack or because he's found. Either way the pain will eventually be gone, the bleeding will completely stop, and he'll be on his way to….somewhere.

Sniffling directs his attention from himself to the door. It's daylight now and he can see a shadow just outside the door. It's in the shape of a dog of some sorts. It's coming closer to the door and the sniffling is getting annoying.

Greg's eyes go wide. It's a coyote and it's staring at him. It growls but Greg kicks up some dirt and the thing backs up. With a last snort the dog backs out and trots off.

His head droops, chin resting on his chest. He's sweaty and gross and covered in dried blood but he can't seem to make himself care enough. He's tired and his breathing is labored from the belt still stuffed into his mouth.

He could cry but he thinks he's all out of tears. He's already cried enough tears to fill the ocean. He just doesn't have it in him anymore.

But sitting here, hands handcuffed to a pipe, cuts littering his body, and his entire body aching, reminds him of a saying he heard in his twelfth grade English class: _Noli me tangere_. Touch me not. He thought for the longest time that nothing about this job could touch him. He's the one with the gun and the police escorts and the monster sized car that could run anybody over. When the explosion happened he thought nothing of the saying. He still felt like nothing could touch him. Then the beating happened and he was left in an alleyway bruised and broken. Then he believed that maybe, just maybe, he could be touched.

And it scared him.

***

Riley sighs heavily and wipes the sweat off her forehead. She hasn't found anything. After the shoe prints got lost she found the barely there trail of blood. She followed it for at least a few minutes until it stopped.

She expected to find a drag trail but instead she found a few smudged prints from animals. She found a hole that something dug and nothing else.

She's gotten extremely worried now. Greg is no where to be found, no one seems to care except she and Nick, and now she can't even find the hint of a lead. She's a CSI trained to find the evidence, the things most people can't see. But she can't find a single thread of something that will lead her to Greg.

She's desperate.

A growl catches her attention. She turns around only to see some abandoned shack with a coyote sniffing around and eyeing something Riley can't see. Then the coyote trots off into the distance. That's when her curiosity peaks.

"Hey Nick! I think something's over here." She doesn't wait for Nick to show himself; instead, she jogs towards the shack, hopes high.

She can hear Nick calling her name but she doesn't listen. She flings open the rickety door the rest of the way and peers inside.

"Greg!" Riley rushes inside, Nick right behind her. "Nick help me."

Greg groans, head falling back against the pipe. "Shit, Greg. How'd you get into this situation?" Nick starts digging in Greg's jeans looking for the key to the cuffs. He finally finds the tiny piece of metal and reaches for the cuffs. When they're unlocked Greg's body sags to the floor but Nick catches him under the arm. "Riley, call the ambulance!"

Riley fumbles with her cell and finally manages to dial 911. "Hello?…Yes, I need an ambulance out here fast!….I don't care! There's an injured person out here so get the hell out here now!" With that said she hangs up and shoves the phone in her pocket. "They're on their way."

Greg laughs dryly as Nick hauls him to his feet, an arm around his waist. He hisses out a curse when Nick's hand lands on a cut. "Sorry. Let's get you out of here."

Riley hurries to Greg's other side and drapes his other arm around her shoulders. He can barely stand on his own two feet and it takes the two CSI's a few minutes to get him up and out of the shack.

The struggle to get to the Denali seems to take hours but in reality it only takes about ten minutes. By the time they get to car the sirens of an ambulance can be heard and Nick and Riley both let out a sigh of relief.

The ambulance comes to a stop a few feet away and two EMT's rush out the back of the van. They bring a stretcher with them and hurriedly take Greg from Riley and Nick. He's cursing loudly with a hand over his forehead.

Then he passes out.

***

It smells too clean and the sheets are too crisp. Greg knows this feeling. He's been in a hospital bed way too many times for his liking.

"About time."

Greg smiles at the sound of Riley's voice. He opens his eyes, immediately squinting against the harsh lights in the room. His head is pounding, his breathing is slowed, and his pulse is racing. But he doesn't care because he's alive and well.

"What took you guys so long?" he rasps out. He looks around the room and sees the entire team standing or sitting in various places. Riley points to Nick who's eyes go wide.

"That optimistic bastard thought you were fine until I convinced him to come out to the crime scene with me." Riley punches Nick in the shoulder and he flinches away from her.

"Hey, I know Greg. He slept in for an entire day one time without letting anyone know where he was or what was up. Grissom sent in the cavalry only to find Greg buried underneath tons of blankets." Nick holds his hands up in his own defense and backs away from Riley's punches.

Greg laughs but it turns into a wince. Then a nurse bustles into the room fussing about the number of people in there and that it's time for his pain medication. Greg grumbles his protests as the nurse inserts a needle into his IV drip.

"Awe come on, Harriet!" Greg whines and a pout turns down his lips. He crosses his arms but immediately regrets doing so when his shoulder pulls tight. "Ow."

"Mhm. Now stop wiggling around, Gregory. You'll pull your stitches in that shoulder." The nurse taps his good shoulder before taking her things and leaving the room.

"I'm sick of hospitals," he grumbles, rubbing just below the stitches holding his shoulder together. He lays back against the pillows sighing.

"Then quit getting yourself into them." Riley gives him a 'duh' expression and he rolls his eyes.

For a moment the room is silent. The team is staring at Greg, wondering what to say. "How bad is it?" He shoves the thin sheet off his torso and yanks the hospital gown up. His chest is covered in thin cuts; nothing too deep to do bad damage but still bad enough to cause significant blood loss. He just stares at the cuts that will leave new scars. New scars to add to the already piled-high list. Now the front can match the back.

That really hit him hard. He pushes the gown down and pulls the blanket up to his chin, feeling defeated but grateful at the same time. It could've been a whole lot worse; he could've been left there, never to be found.

"Guys, we should get back to work." Catherine clears her throat and starts shooing people out of the room. Greg watches them go, except for Riley. She stays, telling the others she'll be right behind them.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Riley, I'll be fine. Harriet will take good care of me." Greg forces out a laugh as Riley sits on the edge of the bed.

"You sure? When we found you, you were covered in blood and barely awake." She touches his hand, staring down at the bed.

"I'm fine. Thanks to you."

"And Nick!" Riley adds quickly. "Can't forget that Nick was there too."

"Okay, okay. Calm down." Greg smiles and this time it isn't forced or pained. "Thanks. Maybe this will be the last time I'm ever in here."

Riley stands to leave but not before leaning down and giving Greg a kiss on the cheek. She ruffles his hair, smiling, and heads for the door. "It better be." She waves from the door and he waves back, still with a smile on his face. "Feel better."

Greg watches her leave until he can't see her through the glass windows anymore. With a sigh he scoots farther under the covers carefully. A painful twinge in his shoulder makes him close his eyes tightly. How he gets himself into these situations he'll never know. But for now he'll lie in the hospital bed covered in cuts that will leave new scars and he'll wonder and he'll probably cry again.

And he'll keep _Noli Me Tangere_ in the back of his mind and promise himself that he'll never think of himself as invincible again.


End file.
